


Just Another Day

by sg_wonderland



Series: Days series [18]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 02:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8186674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: A not-so typical day.





	

0700 (Jack)

With a sigh, I head up the stairs to begin the most dangerous and thankless part of my day. 

Waking Daniel.

There is a lump of indistinguishable kid in the middle of his bed, the covers completely pulled away from all the corners. What might appear, to the unschooled eye, to be a mop is Daniel’s hair, barely visible. I sit down and gently stroke that head. “Daniel, wake up.” He doesn’t stir. “Come on, kid, time to get up. Got to go to school.” A grunt is his only reply. I begin unsnaking the covers and he comes to life enough to clumsily fight me for control. All the tugging has uncovered a skinny little foot and I grab it firmly, pulling him toward me.

“Quit.” He tries to hold off my onslaught by digging his hands into the sheet.

“School, Daniel.”

“No school. Saturday.”

“Don’t know what calendar you’re using, but it’s Thursday on this planet.” He gives a huge sigh of misery. “Yeah, I know, you’re tired, you don’t want to go to school.”

“Gonna be a dropout,” he warns me. While he’s been complaining, I’ve surreptitiously been shifting the covers so that one good yank and he’s uncovered completely. “Hey!” He’s clearly offended and tries to snatch them back. 

“No. Get up. Now, Daniel.” Faced with lying on the now stripped bed, he crawls off and staggers toward the bathroom. I’ve gotten wise to his ways; I do not merely assume he’s up and desert my post. No, I take the time to make his bed, grab a uniform from the closet and sit to wait for him to emerge. His face has that healthy glow that only young skin can achieve, his hair is damp where he splashed around after brushing his teeth. I have given up trying to get him to eat breakfast; I’ve got a bag downstairs with an apple and some juice that he’ll maybe eat in the truck.

Convinced he is now up, I leave him to dress himself and go make my own bed, detouring through his bathroom to pick up the dirty clothes.

He yawns all the way to school, declines the apple but is slurping the juice when the uniformed bus monitor waves me to a stop in front of the school. “Have a good day, Daniel.” His answer is a careless wave as he jumps out.

*

 

7:45AM (Abigail Hart)

“Good morning.” I smile as I hold the door open for him.

“Good morning, Miss Hart.” He has an over-sized backpack in one hand and a juice box in the other.

“Can I help you with that, Daniel?” I reach for the bag. He, like most kids, lugs a backpack that is far too heavy for him. “My goodness, what’ve you got in there?”

“Just books. Well, mostly.” He confesses. “I brought a chess set for history class. We’re studying what kids used to do before electricity.”

The young Carla Zimmerman is one of our more inventive teachers. “That’s interesting. What sorts of things did kids play? Besides chess?” I pass my classroom up so I can carry his bag for him.

“They really didn’t play a lot because they had chores and stuff.”

“That doesn’t sound like a lot of fun.” I know Daniel lives with a guardian, that his military parents are dead or missing. “So do you have chores at home?”

“Yeah, I have to unload the dishwasher and keep my room neat and when Jack cleans windows, I have to do the low ones.” His smile turns quite cheeky. “I told him if he bought a riding mower, I could do the yard for him.”

I return his smile, knowing there is very little danger of that actually coming true. I set his bag down in front of his locker. “There you are, Mr. Jackson.”

His sweet blue eyes are dancing but his voice is grave. “Thank you, Miss Hart.”

*

10:15 (Jenna Taylor)

“Jack, I’m sorry I’m late.”

“No, no, you’re fine.” He rubs his hands together. “So, where’s this piano?” I lead him through the music store to the piano I’ve found. “Wow, this is beautiful.”

“Yes, it’s a fine piece. It’s twenty years old but that isn’t any age at all in pianos. It’s not too big, so you should be able to fit it easily in your living room.” I’ve already measured and I think it will be fine. He’s assured me his house has French doors that will accommodate the piano, always a consideration when trying to get one inside.

“Will you play me something?”

I sit down and run through a few things; I’d already tried it out when I found it. The store manager comes over and he and Jack discuss accessories, what he’ll need for a rather small six-year-old to be able to play comfortably. 

Daniel is far too young to have lost both father and mother. But he is obviously happy with Jack and they seem to get along very well; he appears to be well-adjusted and satisfied. 

He’s one of my best students; certainly has a feel for the instrument and loves it, the two not necessarily going hand in hand. His innate talent is something that simply cannot be taught.

I lose myself in the music; let their conversation wash over me. Clearly they’ve struck a deal and Mr. Anders proudly places a ‘sold’ sign on top of the piano.

 

*

10:15AM (Carla Zimmerman)

“Thank you, Kelsey, I had no idea Tic-tac-toe had such a long history. Daniel, you were going to tell us about chess.” I steel myself for his presentation; I don’t think I’ve ever had a student who does such thorough research as he does. He doesn’t disappoint me, giving a succinct but packed talk about chess. 

And, of course, he doesn’t have just any mass-produced set; it’s a hand carved antique of ebony and boxwood with an inlaid wooden board. He sets his board up, explaining each piece, that they are weighted with lead to keep the pieces in places, handling the pieces with grace and reverence. 

No one in the class plays except Daniel so I tell him I’ll ask Mr. Carson, who coaches the chess team, to come by and play him. I’m sure he won’t mind; Daniel is one of his prize pupils.

Daniel talks about how games can take days and days to finish but in a tournament, you usually have a time limit. So we agree to leave a board set up on one of the counters, not, of course, the antique one and he and Mr. Carson will play a little every day when they can. And Daniel can explain the moves they’re making.

*

12:30PM (Kellee Marks)

I put my tray down beside Daniel’s, trying not to look for Max. Anyway, I’m mad at him and I’m never speaking to him ever again. Not since I caught him making funny eyes at Linnie Simmons. I don’t care, anyway. “Hey, Daniel. Do you really like chess?”

“Sure,” he is lining up his green beans to look like train tracks. “It’s fun.”

“It’s boring. Moving a bunch of funny looking things around a board?”

“Yeah, ‘cause Monopoly makes soooo much more sense.” He rolls his eyes.

“At least there’s a point to Monopoly. Are you going to eat or are you just going to play?” His plate is still full, I don’t think he’s eaten anything.

He makes a face. “I’m playing with them. Green beans are gross.”

I start to ask him why he isn’t eating when we’re interrupted. “Hi, Daniel, Kellee.” Kayla Hernandez sits across from us, frowning at Daniel’s plate. “What are you doing with those green beans?”

“They’re not green beans, they’re railroads.” He sniffs.

“They’re green beans. And you’d better not let Jack find out you’re not eating.” She smirks at him as she takes a big bite of her chicken.

“Unless you tell him, he won’t know. And you won’t tell him.” Daniel makes a face back at her.

“Because?”

“Because I’ll tell your mom who stuck that note in Tommy Lan’s locker.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” She hisses at him.

“Wouldn’t I?”

“She won’t believe you.” She doesn’t sound sure.

“Wanna take a chance on it? You keep your mouth shut about lunch and I’ll keep my mouth shut about the kissy note.”

“One of these days, Daniel..” She shakes a fist at him.

“Come on, Kellee, we’ve got time to go to the library. Bye, Kayla.” She sticks her tongue out and he just laughs.

*

3:52PM (Max London)

Daniel is sitting on the front steps with Kayla Hernandez when I find him. “Daniel.” I poke him in the shoulder and motion for him to follow me over where Kayla can’t hear. “What did Kellee say about me at lunch?”

“She didn’t say anything about you.”

“She didn’t ask where I was at or anything?” This isn't good. I don’t really like Linnie, I just wanted to see what Kellee would do.

“We didn’t talk about you at all.” Daniel shakes his head.

“So, what did you talk about?” I ask him suspiciously.

“Green beans.”

*

0400 (Jack)

“Good afternoon, campers.” Daniel and Kayla both wince as I open the back door of the truck. “And how was school on this fine October day?”

“It was fine, Jack. Wasn’t it, Daniel?”

I detect a note of challenge in her voice. “Daniel, everything alright?”

His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “It’s fine, Jack, no problem.”

I’ll get it out of him eventually, but for now, I let it pass. “Okay, I need to stop at the store. What would you kids like for supper?”

“How about green beans?” Kayla pipes up. I look back in time to see Daniel punch her arm.

“Daniel! You know how I feel about hitting. Apologize to Kayla.”

“She started it!”

“Daniel.” I warn him again. He apologizes with very little feeling and I get the impression there’s something going on here. I make them both get out of the truck with me at the store because I don’t trust the two of them alone together.

Kayla lingers in the produce aisle and Daniel whispers something that has her scooting right along. 

Kids, I sigh silently as I push the cart wearily.

*

0630

It might take me awhile to notice, but I finally notice that Kayla is watching Daniel like a hawk. And that’s when I realize that he’s just shoving food around in a vain attempt to fool me into thinking he’s actually eaten something. I refrain from using the old parental stand-by, that he’s not leaving the table until he eats something. He asks to be excused and I nod. He’s gone from the table in seconds.

“Okay, Kayla,” I round on my other victim. “Spill it. What’s wrong with Daniel?”

Her eyes remain on her baked potato. “I don’t know.”

“Kayla.”

She fidgets, sighs, finally puts her fork down and looks at me. “Daniel will kill me for telling.”

“I’ll protect you. Tell me what?”

“He didn’t eat any lunch today. He told Max that eating made his stomach hurt so he just wasn’t going to eat.”

My mind immediately starts tracking his eating habits this week. We had Sunday dinner at Frasier’s house and I think Daniel ate well that day. I run through the rest of the week and realize that he hasn’t been enthusiastic about eating most of the week.

So what’s wrong with my little devil?

0715

I deliberately waited until Kayla was gone before taking this particular bull by the horns. “Daniel.” He’s fooling around on the keyboard.

“Yeah?” He doesn’t even turn around. Further evidence that there’s something wrong.

“Is there something we need to talk about?”

“No, everything’s fine.”

I sit down on the edge of his bed and yank him off the stool and onto my lap, someplace he thinks he’s too old to be. “Daniel, you’ve barely eaten for the past few days. So, what is it? Are you sick? Something hurting you?”

He attempts to burrow his head against my chest but I won’t allow it. Finally he blurts out. “Jack, am I like your real kid?”

What the hell? “Daniel, I’m not sure what you mean.”

And finally it all comes tumbling out. “Tobey said I wasn’t your real kid ‘cause your real kid died and if he hadn’t died, you wouldn’t want me.”

“Aw, Daniel,” I hold him tight.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about your real kid?” His voice is muffled.

“Because it hurt too much to talk about him. One of these days, I’ll tell you all about him. But I promise you one thing,” I pull him back to look him in the eyes, “if Charlie were still alive, I’d have two kids instead of one. You’re my real kid, Daniel, in every way that matters. Don’t let anyone tell you any differently.”

“I wanted to punch Tobey Zachary right in the mouth.”

Suppressing a smile at his fierce expression, I stop just short of agreeing with him. “You know that’s not the way to handle things. We don’t punch people, even if they say things to hurt our feelings. What do we do?”

Daniel sighs an exaggerated sigh. “We look over them because there’s something wrong with them.”

Besides, if this Tobey is Norm Zachary’s boy, he’s got more trouble than just Daniel to deal with; his father is a poor excuse for an officer who is skating on the thin edge of a dishonorable discharge. I found out he’d been treating a female subordinate to less than funny jokes so I gave him a written reprimand. Tobey must have mentioned Daniel, his father puts two and two together and finds a way to get back at me. I’ll deal with Zachary tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ve got a little boy to cheer up.

“Okay, Tobey sounds like the kind of kid who likes to make trouble.”

“He is!” Daniel nods enthusiastically. “He told Mr. Kriesten that Ronnie was the one who let the lizard out in class. But it was Tobey and he lied!” This has clearly upset Daniel’s world view.

“Well, I’m sure Tobey had some reason for saying that.” Probably a deep desire to see someone else get in trouble for a change.

“I thought about telling Ronnie who told ‘cause then he’d beat Tobey up.” Daniel confesses.

I so have to meet this Ronnie. “Now, that would be stooping to Tobey’s level and we’re not going to do that, are we?”

“No,” Daniel sounds almost disappointed. I can’t really say I blame him.

“What we are going to do is have a sandwich then get a good night’s sleep and not worry about what certain little boys have to say, right?”

“Right.”

“But first, you gonna play me some ‘Charlie Brown’ music?”

“’kay.” He scrambles out of my arms and settles on the stool before picking out the jazz sounds of that particular piece I like so well. The music is fast and his little fingers fly over the keys.

As I stand in the kitchen making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I decide that I’m calling the music store in the morning and asking when they can deliver that piano. No use making both of us wait ‘til Christmas morning.


End file.
